Harry Potter and the Little Consequences
by Fayari
Summary: What if Harry had never received his invisibility cloak for Christmas in his first year? What if he received a time turner instead?
1. Author's Intro

**Disclaimer**

Harry Potter and other characters used in this story are the exclusive property of Joanne Rowling (JK Rowling).

**Author's Intro**

Hey, this is Fayari with a Harry Potter story for you this Christmas. Basically, it's what I think would happen if Harry had never gotten the invisibility cloak for Christmas in his first year, but instead had gotten a time turner.

I know what you're thinking. "Oh no, not another time turner fic, just another guy making an old Harry go back into the past and changing it for the better based on his future knowledge."

Wrong!

I won't be following that formula, it's already been done. The works, 'Harry Potter and the Nightmares of Futures Past' by S'Tarkan; and 'Harry Potter and the Quantum Leap' by Seel'vor are the best stories that I've seen that follow that line of thinking. I cannot hope to match the stories that these gods among authors have written.

Thankfully, neither of these authors used a time turner to make Harry go back in time. Unfortunately, most other authors do. Many fans seemed to be confused at what a time turner actually does.

Let me make one thing clear. Nothing can change the past.

A time turner's purpose is to simply bring the present you back to the recent past. Whatever the present you does in the past has already happened, and the past you was only unaware of the present you doing it. There's a rule that says that the past you must never realize that the present you is in the past. Of course, Harry may try to break this rule in the story.

However, a time turner cannot be used to undo an action. For example, the past you cut his finger. The present you decides to prevent that from happening and succeeds. So then the past you will never have cut his finger and the present you will have had no reason to go back into the past. It becomes a paradox.

Basically what I'm trying to say is that in this story, even with a time turner, Harry will still have to live with whatever consequences his actions bring about. He won't come from the future and he won't have future knowledge. He won't be able to manipulate a perfect romance (although he might try). He'll still bumble around like the akward, clueless little kid with a lightning bolt scar that we all know and love. I just took away his invisibility and gave him a little bit of extra time to properly learn what he needs to defeat Voldemort.

One last thing, right now this story has a fifty-fifty chance to become a Dark!Harry fic. I still haven't decided yet.

So without further ado, let's get on with the story!


	2. The Best Christmas Ever

**The Best Christmas Ever**

Harry Potter was never a deep sleeper. Up until four months ago, he was still living with the Dursleys. Back then, he always had Aunt Petunia rapping her knuckles smartly on the door to his cupboard at the crack of dawn. Aunt Petunia would then shriek at him with her shrill voice ("Up! Get Up! Now!"), and force him to cook breakfast. He had to get used to being awake and ready by that time, or Aunt Petunia would feel the need to pull him into the kitchen by the ear. For Harry, that meant about four or, if he was lucky, five hours of sleep on most nights.

Thank goodness he didn't have to go back there for the holidays. But Harry found that old habits were really, really hard to break. He never got much sleep in Hogwarts either. And he was well aware of how much all the other boys in his boarding room slept more than him. How any of them could sleep through Ron snoring, he'd never guess. But then again, maybe that was why Harry couldn't sleep well.

Or maybe it was because he was always so excited. Everything in Hogwarts was so very, very magical! And the arrival of December and the holiday cheer really didn't help much at all. Rather, it quite made him even more excited than before. His first Christmas away from the Dursleys!

Harry knew not to expect any presents. But that was okay. Just the thought of not spending Christmas being envious of Dudley's presents was enough for him. In fact, Harry had been trying to hide it ever since December came along, but he was absolutely giddy!

But now, Harry was not giddy at all. Harry found himself with his glasses on and very much awake. He had been awake for quite awhile now, since he had heard a rapping noise outside his window an hour ago. He had first thought that Aunt Petunia came to Hogwarts to ruin his Christmas, but then realized that it was silly to think so.

It turned out to be Errol, the Weasley family owl. When he let the poor old owl in from the frigid night outside, he found it almost half-frozen, with a letter for Percy tied to its wrinkled talons. Errol, who was very, very old, must have mistaken which window to go through because of the snow.

With the covers hanging on his shoulders, Harry went down to the common room, where a scarlet everflame was blazing, to unfreeze Errol. He couldn't very well fall asleep anymore, not now. This was another habit that Harry found hard to break. When something wakes him up in the middle of the night, he couldn't go back to sleep.

Back with the Dursleys, it helped save his backside, shoulders to arse, on numerous occasions. Uncle Vernon was always a firm believer that a good beating could knock out the 'strangeness' from anybody. At least once a month, Uncle Vernon had tried to beat the strangeness out of him in the middle of the night, probably so that Aunt Petunia and Dudley wouldn't see. After his first beating, Harry learned to quickly wake up and bolt at the sound of creaking stairs, heavy footsteps, clicking doorknobs, basically anything that might sound like someone approaching him while he slept.

It was too dark for Harry to check the time on the common room's clock. He already had bad eyesight in the daytime, let alone the middle of the night. As he waited for Errol to defrost, Harry instead preened his ears from under the covers, listening to the workings of the pendulum lion clock. Soon enough, a deep tolling resounded throughout Gryffindor tower.

Harry knew the clock chimed every hour and tolled only at midnight. If last night was Christmas' Eve, then right now it was...

A loud crash from behind him made Harry jump. He cranked his head at the sound, only to find his best friend, Ron, sprawled on the ground. It seems Ron had tripped down the stairs in a mad rush. Staring at each other, they both let loose a couple of huge grins that reached from ear to ear.

"Happy Christmas, Ron" Harry said, as he helped Ron up. Errol let out a weak, shivering hoot from under a couch warmer.

"Happy Christmas, Harry. Huh?" Ron said, finally noticing their family's jittering, old owl. "What's Errol doing here?"

Harry relayed the story to Ron, who apologized profusely. "Sorry about that mate..." Ron said, "Errol's ancient and all. This guy's probably older than Dumbledore, you know."

Both of them shared a laugh at that. After which, Ron soon moved towards one of the piles of presents under the common room's Christmas tree. It was a rather large pile with Ron's name on it. Harry counted the piles and noticed that there was one extra pile near the far side. He knew that the other Weasleys; Percy, Fred, and George; were the only other Gryffindors that had stayed in Hogwarts for the holidays. So why were there five piles of presents on the floor?

"Aren't you gonna open your presents, Harry?" Ron peered at him curiously, "No use holding back on Christmas, yeah?"

This brought Harry up short. "Huh? I have presents?"

"Well, yeah" Ron said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's this pile at the back. Unless there's some other bloke in Hogwarts named Harry Potter."

Harry was gobsmacked. At first he thought he was still asleep and dreaming. He really didn't know anybody that would give him any presents... well, maybe Ron and Hermione would. But two presents wouldn't be much of a pile. And it would make him feel bad that he didn't get them any presents at all.

Nevertheless, he ducked under the tree and helped Ron fish out 'Harry's pile'. It was considerably smaller than Ron's pile. Harry checked and it really did have his name on the pile! He had presents! And no Dursleys to spoil the fun! This was the best Christmas ever!

"Well, gef on wifh id, mafe!" Ron egged him on. Errol weakly hooted his agreement. Ron had already opened half his presents, a lot of it food and candy, and was now stuffing his face with a few Chocolate Frogs.

Harry didn't need any further encouragement. He tore through the first present in the pile, which was wrapped in musky brown paper that was marked with Hagrid's thick scrawl. It was a roughly carved wooden flute. Harry blew an owlish sounding note on it. Errol hooted back. Harry made a mental note to get Hedwig to listen to him play, before setting the flute aside to move on to the next present. He found a brilliant emerald green, knitted jumper with the letter H in front. It came along an assortment of mince pies.

"Oh no..." Ron piped up, having finally swallowed some of his treats. "Mum's gone and knitted you a Weasley jumper! She does it every year for all of us. Mine's always maroon though."

At this point, Harry was trying to fight back tears. He barely even spoke to Ron's mum, and here she goes knitting him something to keep him warm! And Ron was one of his best friends! He couldn't believe how nice all the Weasleys were!

"Ron, I... don't know what to say..." Harry's voice was cracking, and he was feeling so akward. He knew boys shouldn't be crying, but he couldn't help it. "I've got to thank you and your mum... this is the best Christmas ever."

"Er, don't worry about it mate..." Ron shifted akwardly too. All he'd done was tell his mum that Harry was keeping him company in Hogwarts this Christmas. He tried gently patting Harry on the shoulder. "Er, ah... tell you what, just give me a few of your share of mince pies and we'll call it even."

Both of them grinned at each other, glad that the akward moment had past. Harry turned towards opening any other presents, and Ron, once again began stuffing his face, this time with Harry's mince pies. Errol fell asleep.

Hermione Granger, Harry's only other friend, had sent both Harry and Ron a double pack of Chocolate Frogs and Every Flavor Beans each. Ron, on the other hand, hadn't given out any presents at all, for which Harry was secretly thankful. It was bad enough for Harry that he had received so many and yet hadn't given out any himself. Now at least, Hermione wouldn't think that it was only him who was thoughtless this Christmas. Still, he resolved that he would never again forget to buy presents for his friends. He also resolved to ask each of them for their birthdays, so he could buy them presents then as well.

Harry had thought that Hermione's was the last one, until he noticed a small white box, tied with red and green ribbons, that was still near the far side of the Christmas tree. They must have missed it earlier. Grabbing it from underneath the tree, he checked the name on the tag. It wouldn't do for him to get too excited, lest he start opening presents meant for others. The tag read, To Mr. Harry James Potter.

Ron was quite preoccupied, staring in disgust at his own Weasley jumper, with a golden R in front and done in a deep maroon thread that clashed horribly with his red hair. Harry carefully opened the small box and peered inside. It was a golden necklace, with what seemed to be an hour glass in a ring for the midpiece. Harry pulled it out of the box, and discovered that it had an incredibly long chain. Probably enough to wrap around his head thrice and still be loose.

Along with the necklace, there was a folded note in the box. While Ron was heading back upstairs to stuff his jumper into his trunk, Harry quietly read the note.

***

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I gave this to your mother back when she was still my student. She left it with me before she died. I know that she would have wanted you to have it, so now I'm giving it to you._

_Happy Christmas._

_Sincerely,_

_--Professor Minerva McGonagall, Your Head-of-House --_

_P.S. I strongly suggest you do not show this to any of your housemates, Mr. Potter._

_I shall need to speak with you on the start of term about this item._

_***_

By now, Harry was staring admiringly at the way that the light of the Gryffindor everflames in the fireplace seemed to dance on the hour glass. It was a beautiful necklace. And to top it off, it belonged to his mother... just thinking about it made Harry's heart swell with joy. It wasn't until Ron came bounding down the stairs to get more presents to stuff into his trunk that Harry barely remembered what the letter said and pocketed the necklace.

Once the excitement of opening Christmas presents had worn off, they both headed back upstairs to their boarding room. Ron delivered Percy's letter first, carrying Errol's sleeping form in a bundle of blankets. Ron let Errol lie on his bedside table, and soon both Harry and Ron clambered into their four poster beds. The Gryffindor clock had just chimed three when they were tucking into the covers.

"G'night Harry, Happy Christmas." Ron said, stifling a yawn.

"Happy Christmas to you too..." Harry replied, "... and thanks again."

Ron gave him another grin before closing his eyes. Harry only had to wait for a few minutes before the sound of Ron's snoring slowly filled his ears. Harry gently pulled the necklace out of his pocket. He couldn't go back to sleep anyway, so he occupied himself by staring at it. He stared at it for hours before he heard the clock down at the common room chime five. The first tendrils of light were just rising over the black lake.

*****

Harry had spent the rest of Christmas morning in the Owlery, playing weird owl calls and the like. Errol seemed to have grown attached to him for some reason, and had come with him. The old owl was quietly enjoying the music, silently bobbing his head. In fact, all the owls seemed to enjoy his songs and were bobbing their heads to the notes. Hedwig, his own snowy little owl, had perched on his shoulder, and was moving her wings like some snowy little owl conductor. It was practically an owl concert.

When Harry got hungry, he and Hedwig went down to the Great Hall for a lunch of sausages and orange juice. Hedwig probably ate more sausages than Harry did. They caught up with the Weasleys, who had just finished their lunch together.

Then, with Hedwig helping him, Harry had spent a happy Christmas afternoon in a furious snowball fight, against Ron and the twins, who had tried to drag Percy into the fight by flinging huge enchanted snowballs at him. The twins soon found out that this wasn't such a good idea, because Percy was a monster in the pitch, and was a surprisingly good shot with his left arm. When they went back into the castle, cold, wet and breathless from Percy's snowball onslaught, they were all looking forward to a wonderful Christmas dinner.

And oh how the Christmas dinner didn't disappoint! All the turkey, muffins, trifle, and Christmas cake! Potatoes, peas, and gravy overflowing! And the roast turkeys were so very, very succulent! Every kind of food that Harry had always dreamed of eating for Christmas, but had never been allowed to! Needless to say, Harry followed Ron's example and got a lot from each dish, and then proceeded to stuff his face. Everything was absolutely delicious!

And by the end of it all, Harry was knackered. This had been his best Christmas day ever, and as he climbed onto his four poster bed to retire for the night, he was sad that it was over. He found himself wishing that he could somehow relive this day over and over.

Harry had never before been as happy as he was today. Except, maybe when Hagrid had first told him that he was a wizard... And come to think of it, he hadn't greeted Hagrid yet! Besides the flute, Hagrid was the one who gave him Hedwig, after all. He made a mental note to visit Hagrid's hut tomorrow and play a song on that new flute of his. Or better yet, Harry would invite him to an owl concert!

That night, Harry stared at the golden necklace for a few more hours. He didn't remember putting it back in his pocket before sleep overcame him. The last thing Harry remembered thinking was that the start of term was a week and a half away...

* * *

Please Review


	3. The Morning After Christmas

**The Morning After Christmas**

_***_

_Dear Hagrid,_

_Happy Christmas... er, Boxing Day. Sorry it's late, but thanks for the flute. I love it. I've got a Christmas present for you too. Could you meet me up in the Owlery at one this afternoon?_

_Sincerely,_

_Harry_

_***_

Harry read over the note he had written one last time before he rolled it up and tied it to Hedwig's leg. He then gently stroked Hedwig's snowy plumage as he gave her instructions. Hedwig gave an affectionate hoot at Harry's touch. She was almost... cooing.

"Atta' girl. Now, take this to Hagrid, Hedwig. Head straight to the Owlery afterwards. Remember to tell the others, alright?" Harry said. He tried to keep a stern voice, he really did. But with Hedwig staring at him with those huge, owly, chocolate-brown eyes, Harry couldn't help but give it up as a bad job. After much coaxing and a promise of some owl treats, he finally got Hedwig to fly off to Hagrid's hut.

As Harry watched Hedwig go, he began to feel quite nervous about this whole concert business. He didn't feel nearly as competent about his flute-playing as he would like to be. But the owls seemed to like it, so maybe Hagrid would too. Harry was expecting... or hoping, really, that Hagrid would, at the very least find the whole lot of them quite funny. It would be good for a few laughs, at least.

With nothing more to do, and mostly to avoid fidgetting around the boarding room, Harry went out through the portrait hole, hoping to catch a bit of breakfast. He had been woken up again this morning, this time by Hedwig tapping outside his window. Hedwig had somehow known she'd be needed, and Harry was quite thankful that she did. Harry did not fancy a stroll up the slippery Owlery stairs at the crack of dawn. He had then taken about an hour writing that simple letter, most of which was spent fittering about trying to find his quill and ink bottle. Harry made a mental note to clean up all the scattered things around his bed and trunk before the start of the new term.

Harry's stomach gave an almighty lurch, so he followed the smell of bacon and toast towards the Great Hall. He was surprised to find that there was only one other person in the entire hall, aside from him. Though Harry and the Weasleys were the only Gryffindors staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, there were still quite a few students from all the other houses. As it was, only Percy was there, eating solemnly at the Gryffindor's table, a piece of toast hanging from his mouth, reading from a piece of parchment.

"Hello, Percy!" Harry waved at Percy and walked towards him. Harry saw Percy quickly put the piece of parchment away, and was curious as to why. But Harry decided it wasn't any of his business really, as he sat down beside Percy and loaded his plate full of bacon. Percy raised an eyebrow at Harry.

"Bit of an early bird yourself, Harry?" Percy asked, still looking curiously at him. "Didn't think anybody else'd be up this early. Been up since dawn myself, you know. Had to write a few, er... thank you letters."

"You too, huh?" Harry replied, biting a strip of bacon. That made two of them. Of course, most everbody else was sleeping in on Boxing Day. It was the morning after Christmas, and Harry knew people would be feeling quite flat. Back with the Dursleys, Boxing Day was one of the few days of the year that Aunt Petunia didn't bother Harry in the morning. Instead, the Dursleys spent the morning sleeping in, and the rest of the day shopping in London. Harry never did get to go wth them on these shopping trips. He had always been left with cabbage-smelling Mrs. Figg and her many, many cats.

Percy soon finished the piece of toast in his mouth, gathered his belongings, and excused himself from the table ("Er, lots of holiday homework to do today. Be seeing you around then, Harry"). Harry didn't mind eating alone, and what Percy said got him thinking. It was a lovely Thursday morning, the day after Christmas, and he really didn't have much to do before the concert. Might as well get in a bit of homework done too. Hermione's probably got hers done right after holiday's started.

As Harry went back to the common room, he got the feeling that he had forgotten something. It wasn't until four hours later when Harry was starting on his Potions essay, struggling to find _Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger amidst the pile of used clothes littered on the floor, that he remembered what it was he had forgotten.

Nicolas Flamel.

Harry was still thoroughly convinced that he had read that name somewhere before. Unfortunately, he, along with Ron, had already checked all of what they thought were relevant books short of the Restricted Section of the library and still had nothing to show for their work. Hermione would be quite dissappointed to know that. When the start of term comes, he'd have even less time to spare, what with lessons and Quidditch. He had to get any sort of access to the Restricted Section before the start of term.

A few months ago, Hagrid had let the name slip to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry considered tricking Hagrid into saying more at the concert, but then decided against it. Harry very much did not want to upset Hagrid. After all, it was just past Christmas.

Finally giving up his book as a bad job, Harry headed down to the Great Hall for some lunch. It was a little past eleven. Ron was with Harry now, having woken up after Scabbers had apparently bitten him on his nose. Ron was furious.

"Bloody rat! I let him sleep on my bed and he goes and bites me! Let's see how he likes being bitten when I feed him to Errol..." Ron said as he viciously stabbed an eleventh sausage and stuffed it into his mouth. Harry was amazed that Ron could eat so much. Harry was sure that if it were him, he'd be puking on the floor by his fifth.

Harry sipped the last drops of his pumpkin juice and quietly waited for Ron to run out of steam. Ron didn't know about the concert, and Harry didn't particularly want Ron to hear his horrible flute-playing. But Harry wasn't sure whether it would be insulting to Ron if he wasn't invited. What kind of friend would Harry be if he were to offend Ron right after Mrs. Weasley gave him that brilliant jumper?

"Er, Ron, I've got to... er, send a few letters today so I'll be going on ahead." Harry stood up and made to leave. Ron jauntily waved goodbye. Harry hesitated for a moment, before asking, "By any chance, do you like flute music?"

"Why? Are fou finking of gifing a flufe comferf or somefhing, mafe?" Ron asked, laughing and spewing Harry with sausage bits. Harry froze as what Ron said finally registered. Was it possible for Ron, or anybody for that matter, to read minds? Harry very much did not like the sound of that. He couldn't have people looking around in his head, now could he? The things he thought about... Harry would much rather keep to himself, thank you.

When Harry didn't answer, a look of understanding flickered across Ron's face.

"Oh, you were?" Ron asked awkwardly, having finally swallowed his mouthful. "Did you want me to watch, mate?"

"Well, it's for Hagrid, really, but you can come, if you want... it's this afternoon" Harry replied. He really hoped Ron would say no. Not that it would be a bother if Ron watched, mind. Only that Hagrid was Hagrid, and though Harry was quite nervous about it, Hagrid would likely love to see some owls bobbing their heads to music. Ron wasn't Hagrid, and Harry didn't know if Ron would like it at all. Ron would likely think it was stupid.

"Are you any good with it, the flute I mean?" Ron asked Harry after a while. Harry felt his ears warm a bit. He was now quite regretting ever asking Ron.

"Er, I can play a few songs... and I can make owl calls with it, mostly..." Harry said quietly, "Listen, you don't have to if you don't want to, mate. I just thought you might be er, offended... if I don't invite you and all."

"Why would I be offended? It's not as if I want to waste an afternoon..." Ron was saying before he snapped his mouth shut. It looked as if Ron just realized what he was saying. Harry felt his cheeks heat up as he looked furiously at Ron.

"That's—it's not—" Ron stuttered a bit.

"Well it's not as if I wanted you there anyway!" Harry said hotly, before storming off. It was true. Harry really _didn't_ want Ron there in the first place. And If Ron felt that way, then fine! Who cared what Ron thought anyway? Harry had a concert to prepare for, and Ron was definitely not invited!

* * *

Please Review


	4. Happy New Year

**Happy New Year...**

Hagrid had loved the Boxing Day concert. Harry had hoped, but never really expected, that Hagrid would find it funny. He certainly did not expect Hagrid to break into tears, saying in between sobs that it was the greatest, most wonderful Christmas present that anybody's ever given him.

At first, Harry thought that his performance had been so bad that Hagrid had to cry about it. He realized this was a silly thought when Hagrid had then engulfed him in an enormous hug, thanking him. Harry could hardly breathe as he listened to Hagrid's quivering howls.

"An' then... Hedwig swooped down all majestic, tha' is one smar' girl there!—bless yeh Harry! Yeh remembered I gave her too—" Hagrid sobbed happily and blew into what looked like a spotted handkerchief the size of a table cloth. "The lot o' yeh hootin' in perfect beats, an' yeh bin practicin' yer flute!—Oh Harry, yeh made me so proud!"

Harry, embarrased at the praise, had akwardly tried to return the hug. He didn't manage, of course, seeing as he could barely reach a third around Hagrid's gigantic belly, but he had, at the very least, tried. Hagrid had just howled even louder at this, and Harry saw even more tears, great big tears that could fill a bucket in seconds, roll down Hagrid's grizzly black beard.

Of course, looking back, there really had been very little chance of Hagrid _not_ loving the concert. From what Harry knew, Hagrid loved all sorts of animals, and owls were no exceptions! Hagrid was all praises for them when he was buying Hedwig. Hagrid and the shopkeep at Eeylops Owl Emporium had sounded so... enthusiastic about the owls.

Harry spent the next five days after Christmas nearly entirely with Hagrid and Fang, Hagrid's enormous black boarhound. Harry would wake up, at the crack of dawn as usual, get ready for the day, have a bit of breakfast in the Great Hall at around six in the morning, and then trudge off to Hagrid's hut at around seven, where he would stay until dinner time. Harry would then linger around the corridors or the library for as long as he was allowed to, and only trudge back to the boarding rooms to sleep.

Harry would help a bit with some of Hagrid's work, like shovelling snow or helping to carry some sticks for Hagrid's fire later that night. And after that was done, Harry had a lot of fun getting Fang to wrestle him in the snow. Fang, who was twice as large as Harry, easily won every time. Much more often than not, Harry found himself pinned down on the snowy ground under Fang's furry paws, with Fang slobbering and licking all over Harry's face.

Honestly, it was like wrestling with Dudley, except much wetter, much less painful, and much more fun. Hedwig though, seemed to disapprove, and had more than once flown down to them from the Owlery in a screeching rage at this. Never she mind, of course, that Fang could easily fit her entire head in his mouth. Hagrid just found the lot of them funny.

Harry truly did have a lot of fun with Hagrid and Fang, but in the back of his head, Harry knew that this wasn't quite why he had spent the last five days with them. Really, Harry had done so because of only one person...

Ron.

On that concert day, Harry had been very, very mad. So mad in fact, that to calm himself enough for Hagrid's concert, Harry resolved to not think of Ron at all. Since then, Harry had been avoiding Ron, and consequently, all of the other Weasleys, like mad. It was very difficult, as Ron and Harry did sleep in the same boarding room. It helped that Ron didn't seem to want to talk to him either, and so far, Ron's brothers, Percy and the twins either haven't noticed or, much more likely, had chosen to stay out of everything.

Now though, Harry was really starting to miss Ron's company. They didn't eat together anymore, they didn't speak at all to each other, they barely spent anytime together in the same room, and neither of them could even look the other in the eye.

Harry couldn't bear it. He started feeling horrible, all the time. This entire row was his fault, and Harry knew it. He knew, of course, from being together all the time, that Ron wasn't quite the most polite person in Hogwarts. And now that he's had a little time to cool off, Harry realized that Ron probably hadn't meant it the way it sounded.

It wasn't even that insulting, honestly. _'Waste an afternoon' _Ron had said. Harry had gotten worse from the Dursleys, and certainly much, much worse from Draco Malfoy, a sharp-tongued Slytherin who Harry hated with a passion. And Harry didn't even want Ron to watch the concert anyway! Shouldn't he have been happy that Ron didn't want to watch either?

But all the same, Harry had snapped at Ron, and then stormed off. Harry didn't know what had gotten into him, for him to have reacted, so... immaturely, the way an angry child would.

The way Dudley would.

Harry didn't think it was possible, but he felt heart sink a bit further. He tried desperately to convince himself that it wasn't entirely his fault, to make himself feel even a tiny bit better.

'_Ron had started it'_ Harry reasoned, but this sounded so very weak and petty and _Dudleyish_. He tried again. '_Why'd he even think that? Ron was supposed to be his best friend, wasn't he?' _But then, what if, Harry thought horrified, he was the only one who felt that way? What if Ron never even considered Harry as his best friend? From the way they had both been acting lately, Harry certainly wouldn't have been surprised if Ron didn't consider him a friend at all anymore...

On New Year's Eve, half a week before the start of term, Harry kept tossing and turning under his covers. He shifted the curtains of his four-poster bed, and peered through the gap over to Ron's bed. Ron had his own curtains drawn, and seemed to be snoring strangely louder than usual. It was bothering Harry very, very much.

Why was it that Ron could sleep so peacefully, while Harry couldn't at all? Did Ron simply not care?

The Gryffindor clock struck midnight, tolling loudly. Resolving himself to a sleepless night, Harry heaved a heavy sigh, and slipped out of his four-poster bed, dragging the covers with him.

Harry knew he'd be in a right foul mood in the morning. He's had a few sleepless nights before, back with the Dursleys. Foul morning moods and the Dursleys have never bided well for Harry. The last time he had a night like this, Harry had accidentally snapped back at Uncle Vernon during the breakfast after. Uncle Vernon had cuffed him very, very hard round the ear. Incidentally, it was around that time that Harry learned how to mutter whenever he was in a foul mood.

"Happy New Year..." Harry muttered to himself, and then snorted derisively at his own little joke.

Harry moved silently down the stairs to the common room, where a huge everflame was blazing. The Christmas tree was still there, glowing ever so softly with live fairy lights.

Harry curled under his covers into one of the soft, frumpy seats near the fireplace. He didn't know how long he just sat there, keeping himself occupied by staring at the golden necklace that Harry had taken to wearing underneath his clothes. It was, strangely, very warm, and very, very comforting.

That necklace was the one he had received from Professor McGonagall on Christmas. Staring at the necklace always seemed to calm Harry down. He had spent the last five nights doing so, every night since he had received the necklace, after everyone else had fallen asleep. It was simply captivating to see the hourglass twinkle as it reflected what looked like soft carresses from the flickering fire. It was his mother's necklace, McGonagall had said. Harry didn't know if this was true, but he believed it.

The clock chimed again, maybe for the second or third time since midnight. This wasn't what snapped Harry out of his reverie, though. A sudden swishing noise behind him had made Harry jump. In one fluid motion, almost instinctively even, Harry had pocketed the necklace and had whirled around. He whipped out his wand to point it at whatever had made the noise...

The entrance to Gryffindor tower, as far as Harry knew, was a large hole behind the portrait of the Fat Lady. That portrait had just swung open, and the Wealey twins, Fred and George, stepped in through the portrait hole, looking at Harry without the least bit of surprise in their faces. Harry noticed one of them calmly fold a blank piece of parchment and stuff it into a pocket.

"Look, oh brother of mine! Nearly gave me a heart attack, he did!" Fred, or maybe George, exclaimed suddenly, almost making Harry jump again. This twin seemed incredibly unconcerned that Harry was still aiming a wand straight at his face. "Turns out, it's only ickle Harrikins! What a pleasant surprise!"

Somehow, _that_ had sounded everything but surprised. Harry eyed the two of them suspisciously, but didn't say anything.

"Why I never! Trying to hex us, are you?" the other added, giving a gasp that was very, very fake. This twin looked at Harry with mirth in his eyes, with the air of a mother humoring a child. "A firstie like you—"

"Alone in the middle of the night, no less!"

"Oooh, been polishing his wand, you reckon?"

"No wonder he's angry. Who's the lucky girl, Harry?"

The twins flashed him a naughty-looking grin. Harry didn't answer; he had no idea what they were on about. _Polishing his wand_? And what did they mean by _who's the lucky girl_? Harry's confusion must have shown on his face, because a moment later, the twins raised their eyebrows at him.

"Er, this... may not be about a girl, oh brother of mine—" said the twin to Harry's left, the one Harry wasn't pointing a wand at. There was now a hint of something strange in this twin's voice. It might have been worry. That, or it was exasperation. "Oh, and Harry, Fred and I would both appreciate it if you could put your wand away. Or it might just go straight up your... well, just put it away. That's a good little firstie."

"I, er... right, sorry." Harry apologized sheepishly, lowering his wand. He was, after all, just a scrawny, little first year in Hogwarts. Fred and George were two years older; and much, much bigger, than Harry was. They must also know loads more magic. Harry didn't disillusion himself into thinking he could beat even one of them, let alone the two of them, in a fight, muggle style or otherwise. "What were you saying?"

The twins looked at each other, and then turned again to Harry. The look in their eyes this time was unmistakably worry, although Harry couldn't imagine what in the world they were worried about. Harry didn't like this look very much.

"Harry, we need to talk—" George said. He wasn't grinning anymore, and his voice had turned serious.

"About Ron, and about you," Fred added, all traces of amusement falling from him as well, "and about this stupid row between you two. It's got to stop, mate."

Harry remained silent yet again. He had been wondering when the other Wealeys were going to get involved. They were, after all, the only other Gryffindors in the school right now, and they were Ron's brothers. Harry supposed Percy would likely approach him about this sometime soon, too.

George sighed and clapped Harry very very firmly on the shoulder. Fred shook his head sadly, before doing the same. Both of them were giving Harry a pair of identical, very pointed looks.

"Look, Harry..." George said, rolling his eyes in a way that strongly reminded Harry of Hermione. "We know what happened. And trust us, this is about as stupid as stupid rows can get. We can give you some right good advice, you know."

"Or, you know," Fred added, "you can wait for your only other friend, whats-her-name to c—"

"Hermione" Harry said suddenly. Fred looked taken aback, clearly not expecting to be interrupted. But, maybe George did. Harry thought there was one moment when he saw a grin flash on George's face. But then, it was gone the next. Harry felt the strangest sinking sensation somewhere in his stomach, and tried to ignore it as best as he could.

"Er, what?" Fred asked with a bemused expression on his face, and in the firelight, Harry just barely caught the way Fred's eyes subtly shifted to George and back to him again.

"Her name is Hermione. Hermione Granger." Harry said very, very warily. Clearly, there was something going on in here, but exactly _what _was going on, Harry didn't know. Where were Fred and George going with this?

"Right, where were we?"Fred continued, "Ah, yes, as we were saying, you can either listen to us, or you could wait for Granger to come back at the start of term. Goodness knows Ron and you will never settle this by yourselves."

"Mind you," George added "Granger won't know what she's talking about. She's not got a lot of friends, has she?"

"Oi, she does!" Harry defended hotly, even when he knew that what George said was true. About two months before, on Halloween, Harry had accidentally locked Hermione in a bathroom with an angry, twelve-foot tall mountain troll! That troll was nearly as big as Hagrid, and _that_ was saying something. She had been in there because Ron had said almost the exact same thing about her that George did. But, well, it was Ron who had saved her anyway. What exactly had Harry done?

Lock her in with the mountain troll.

Harry had felt guilty about that for days, and had since tried to take up for Hermione whenever anybody said bad things about her.

"Point is," George said, apparently deciding not to argue. "It's in _your_ best interest to listen to us instead, and you know it. Fred and I have probably had more rows with each other—"

"That's right, oh dearest brother of mine—"

"Than with all of our other brothers—"

"And sister—"

"And parents—"

"Get to the point already!" Harry said testily. Ah, Harry thought, there was that foul mood again. It must have been nearing dawn, then. True enough, out the window, Harry saw the the single, first tendril of sunlight, barely even there, break through the horizon, and the common room became just that much brighter.

"And teachers—" Fred continued all the same, as if he hadn't heard.

"And friends—" George added, and Harry felt that now, they were just doing it to annoy him. They were doing a very good job of it.

"And Slytherins—"

"And Filch—"

"Put together." Fred said, finally. Harry saw that their grins... their stupid, annoying, we-know-you-want-to grins, were back at full. Harry tried desperately to look past those grins, past the mischievous images he had come to associate with the twins. He stared instead, at their eyes, trying to see if either of them was leading him on. Of course, Harry had never been very good at that.

In the end, Harry decided to take everything the twins would say with a grain of salt. If the twins wanted to play shrinks, who was he to stop them anyway? And surely, it couldn't hurt to hear them out, could it?

Harry gave them a half-hearted shrug, and motioned them to towards the couch. They all sat down, with the twins still grasping Harry firmly by the shoulders.

Harry prepared himself for what he imagined would be the most akward talk he'd ever have with the twins.

*****

It wasn't nearly as akward as Harry had imagined it to be. He had already been considering it, but talking to Fred and George had convinced Harry to apologize to Ron at the next chance.

Mostly, the twins kept throwing Harry random pieces of advice on how to get Ron near enough for Harry to apologize. Evidently, they had said, Ron was now refusing to go within twenty feet of Harry when either of them were awake, and had been doing so for the last three days. Things like "You can bait him with some bacon from breakfast!", or "Use the Summoning Charm, we'll teach it to you!" kept popping up repeatedly during the conversation.

Soon enough though, the twins let Harry go and said they were going back to their boarding room for a bit of a lie in. The sun had already risen high, and was peeking through several breaks on the white, overcast sky. The Gryffindor clock read half past seven in the morning. Harry's stomach grumbled angrily, sounding much louder than it should have in the now deserted common room. With a heavy sigh, Harry made his way down to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was deserted, except for two unfamiliar female teachers sitting at the staff table. Harry made his way to the very edge of the Gryffindor table, and sat down. He proceeded to pile some eggs on his plate.

For Harry, breakfast would be the same silent affair as always. Even before the holidays, Ron could certainly never be bothered to wake up in time for breakfast when there weren't any morning lessons. And because he usually woke up at the crack of dawn, Harry was always one of the first students to enter the Great Hall for breakfast.

Harry kept his head down, and ate quietly, quickly, and alone. This was how he always ate breakfast. It had always been that way at the Dursleys, and it had always been that way in Hogwarts.

Suddenly, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hi, Harry!"

The voice was high, a bit shrill, but more importantly, _familiar_. Harry raised his head, to see whether it was who he thought it was.

It was Hermione.

Hermione took one look at his face and gave a gasp. For a while, they just silently stared at each other, open-mouthed and aghast. Harry, at some point, remembered that his mouth was still full of egg, and he promptly shut it tight.

Finally, one of them broke the silence.

"Harry, y-you look horrible!"

* * *

Please Review


	5. Worth It?

**Worth It?**

Harry didn't need a mirror, nor Hermione for that matter, to know that he looked horrible. For Harry, the morning after a sleepless night usually meant that he was pale, that there were deep purple rings around his eyes, and that his hair was careening all over the place, even more so than it normally did.

It also likely didn't help that Harry was wearing one of Dudley's revolting old jumpers, a threadbare, mouldy blue one with dark red blotches that might have been raspberry jam stains. Exactly what compelled Aunt Petunia to ever buy such a jumper, Harry would never guess.

Of course, Harry couldn't very well wear the jumper that Mrs. Weasley gave him, could he? Not while he was mad at Ron. It would have made Harry feel a bit like an ingrate to wear it. Such a shame really, that jumper had been so much warmer and more comfortable than all of Dudley's put together. Harry wouldn't be surprised if it had some sort of Warming Charm on it.

If it wasn't for this stupid row, Harry thought, he would have been happily eating breakfast, perfectly well-rested, wearing a warm, beautiful jumper that really fit. Instead, here he was, miserable, sleep-deprived, in a jumper that hung breezily off his shoulders and made him look very much like an old coat rack.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked remarkably well off. She was dressed casually in a light, striped jumper, faded jeans, and trainers that looked quite brand new. Harry didn't know quite what to make of it, as he had never really seen Hermione in anything besides school robes.

"Did you even sleep last night?" Hermione asked, looking rather worried. She poured herself some orange juice and started working some marmalade on a piece of toast.

Most of Hermione's light brown hair, which she usually kept down, had been done up in a neatly ribboned pony-tail. The few locks of hair that weren't, curled and cascaded along the sides of Hermione's head, and framed her face quite nicely. It didn't look bad, not at all, but it did look rather strange for Hermione to have any sort of hairstyle that wasn't plain, old bushy. It took Harry quite a few moments to realize he had still been staring at her, and a few more to realize that she had asked a question.

"Er, no..." Harry replied uncomfortably. Looking back, he realized that he had never before spoken to Hermione without Ron around, and didn't know quite what to say to her. "So... er, how were your holidays?"

"They were fine. Lots of hugging around, you know, because my parents and little sister haven't seen me in four months." Hermione answered quickly, as if she was quite eager to be done with all the small talk. Harry couldn't be certain. Hermione normally did speak very quickly.

"Right..." Harry said akwardly, more to have something to say than anything else. A bout of silence threatened to fall upon them, until Hermione quite viciously bit into her toast, earning a somewhat satisfying crunch. Harry couldn't help but think that Hermione was annoyed by something.

After what seemed like forever, Hermione finally swallowed her mouthful and looked at Harry pointedly. It felt very much like a look from Professor McGonagall. Harry resisted the urge to squirm in his seat.

"I heard that you had a little spat with Ron." Hermione said disapprovingly, but her voice came out nervous more than anything else. "Percy sent me a letter two days ago. I ca—"

"Wait, Percy sent _you_ a letter about the row?" Harry interrupted. "Why?"

Harry just _knew _it was only a matter of time before the other Weasleys got involved. The twins got him just this morning. But then, why did Percy write Hermione, and not him, Harry? It wasn't as if Hermione had anything to do with the row.

"That's not important." Hermione said tartly, her voice a bit too loud. Harry thought he saw just the slightest hint of faint pink spreading across Hermione's face. "Where was I? Oh yes. I came as soon as I could. I just got here, really. Had to owl Professor McGonagall, and ask her if there was a way to go back to Hogwarts earlier than the other students. The Hogwarts Express doesn't leave London for another four days, you know, a—"

"But didn't you want to spend New Year's Day with your family?" Harry interrupted her again.

"Well, yes, but..." Hermione fell silent. She lightly bit her lip, and it seemed that she couldn't find much to answer that with.

Harry frowned at this. He had always supposed that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia couldn't possibly be so different from all the other kids' parents. Maybe all parents with more than one child to take care of always tended to favor one over the other. What if Hermione's little sister was like Dudley, and Hermione was like him, Harry?

It would explain why Hermione was so skinny. But very soon after, Harry had to banish the thought. Hermione had loads of expensive books, and she had perfectly pristine robes nearly all the time, and she smelled really nice and different from the all the other Gryffindor girls. Harry could only assume it was because she used her own flowery-scented shampoo, or something of the sort. And the Muggle clothes she was wearing right then fit her perfectly, and her trainers looked brand new.

Harry looked at himself in comparison. He was really small and skinny for his age, even smaller than Hermione! Harry had never received anything new from the Dursleys in his life, nor did he have any shirts that fit properly. Besides his horribly scotch-taped glasses, and his school stuff, Harry didn't own... well, anything really. He didn't even own the soap and shampoo that he used to bathe with. Harry had nicked them from the one of the Gryffindor Tower bathrooms.

Hermione loudly cleared her throat, and Harry snapped out of his reverie. He had the decency to look properly sorry when he saw Hermione's face. She looked quite uncomfortable as it was, and she seemed to be struggling for what to say. This time, there definitely was a blush creeping on her face.

"I wanted to help. I'm sorry if I'm being presumptious..." Hermione said tentatively.

"Huh?" Harry asked her, and Hermione looked at him as if she thought he was being difficult on purpose.

"Look, Harry, I know you and Ron think I'm being nosy and a know-it-all, and you're right, of couse..." Hermione said miserably, pleadingly even. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "But well... er, let me put it this way. You two are best mates, and I'm a third wheel in that. Well, I... er, think I'm content being the third wheel, as long as I'm still a wheel. Er, am I making any sense at all? Do you get it?"

Harry most certainly did _not_ get it, but he nodded for her sake. As far as he could tell, Hermione gave up time with her family to try and help him patch things up with Ron. Why she felt the need to do so, he couldn't guess. Something about her being a third wheel, whatever that meant. Why did she have to be so vague with her metaphors? Harry chalked it up as another of those _girl_ things that he knew absolutely nothing about.

Harry had soon finished breakfast, and didn't mind waiting for Hermione, who was now looking quite relieved. Like his talk with the twins, Harry ended up mostly getting advice on how to get Ron alone, although Hermione's advice was much more practical than the twins'. She had suggested that Harry wait in their boarding room, and then maybe jump Ron later tonight. All in all, Hermione had been very, very helpful.

Harry and Hermione also talked about little things like the weather, the start of term lessons, and holiday homework. Hermione had hers all done, but Harry still had to work on his potions essay, and after that, read up on his transfiguration notes for a start of term test.

"Oh! Speaking of transfiguration," Hermione said as she finished the last of her orange juice. She stood up and Harry followed suit. "Professor McGonagall asked me to send you to her office. She didn't tell me why, though. It didn't sound too urgent."

Harry and Hermione started walking up to towards Gryffindor Tower. Harry pretended to absentmindedly scratch his chest, and he felt the necklace underneath his clothes. He smiled. Professor McGonagall did say that she wanted to speak with him about his mother's necklace. Harry hoped he could somehow convince her to add in a few stories about his parents too.

"I'll go later, after lunch. I got a present from her on Christmas..." Harry said, but then suddenly remembered that he wasn't supposed to mention the necklace. He gave Hermione the stupidest, most lopsided grin he could manage. "Likely going to ask me if I liked it. Think she might fancy me?"

Hermione snorted in a very unladylike manner, and Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"No, but it was quite nice of her to get you a present." Hermione said, looking as if she herself was holding back a smile. "And stop laughing!"

"Sorry." Harry said, but he really wasn't sorry at all. Hermione seemed to hesitate for a moment, before finally giving into that smile and smacking Harry's arm playfully.

"Ooh, what about my present?" Hermione asked. "Did you like the candy?"

"Yeah, they were great!" Harry said. Right after they had opened Hermione's present, Harry had traded most of his Bertie Botts to Ron for Chocolate Frogs. He had been on sugar high for most of Christmas Day, really. "I'm sorry that I didn't get you a present. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Hermione blinked at him. She let out a small, sad smile. "No, that's okay. You remember how for months I pestered you and Ron about the rules, and tried to ruin your fun. I must have seemed really stuck-up and snooty, and you still saved me from the troll. That's more than I could ask for."

Harry felt the back of his neck heat up, and he put his arm up to rub it. He gave Hermione an embarassed grin. "Well, it was Ron who knocked out the troll, you know."

"But it was so very, very brave of both of you two to try and rescue me. All I did was scream my head off!" Hermione said insistently. "Some Gryffindor I am! I shouldn't have asked the Sorting Hat to put me in Gryffindor. It wanted to put me in Ravenclaw, you know."

Harry wasn't all that surprised. Hermione was the smartest person, muggle or magic, that Harry had ever met. Books and cleverness, Hermione had loads of them, and she would have done well in Ravenclaw. But Harry was glad Hermione was in Gryffindor. Hermione was a good friend.

"Don't say that! I almost fainted when we followed the troll into that bathroom. Granted, it was from the smell, more than anything..." Harry tried to tell her off, but his smirk gave him away.

"Oh yes," Hermione nodded solemnly, "the stench was _rancid_..."

"So what if the Sorting Hat wanted you in Ravenclaw? It's not like it's always right. It wanted to put me in Slytherin!" Harry pointed out, and Hermione's eyes went wide. They arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. "But then, I told it to put me anywhere but there. Who wants to be in the same house as stinking Malfoy, eh? Fairy lights."

"No one wants that, dearies" the Fat Lady said affectionately, swinging open to admit them into the common room.

"Anyway, no matter how snooty you were back then, it doesn't matter. I'm still going to make it up to you." Harry said smugly, crossing his arms and leaving no room for argument. "When's your birthday?"

"W-what?" Hermione stammered.

"When's your birthday?"

"19th September. Harry, you don't have to—" Hermione insisted, but Harry cut her off.

"I want to." Harry said, and he smiled at her. "So I missed your birthday then. I'll get you a present next year. You'll be twelve after all, right?"

"Er, no... I'll be thirteen." Hermione said sheepishly. "I was born in 1979. You?"

"31st July, 1980" Harry said. "But you don't have to get me a present. We won't be even then, will we?"

Hermione raised her eyebrow at him but she soon broke into a cheeky little smile.

"Well, if I do get you a present on your birthday, you'll just have to get me two for mine, won't you?" Hermione turned and headed toward the staircase leading up to the girls' boarding rooms. Just before she disappeared up the flight, Hermione added, "Thanks, Harry."

Harry chuckled and flopped down onto the same common room couch that he had sat on earlier that morning. It was quickly becoming his favourite; soft, frumpy, and nearest to the fire.

"Right." Harry said to himself. "19th September. Have to remember that one."

*****

Neither Ron, nor Hermione had been at lunch. Ron, of course, wasn't speaking with Harry, let alone offering to have lunch together. Harry certainly wasn't too fond of the idea himself. As for Hermione... well, maybe she had gone for a bit of a kip after breakfast. Hermione did mention that she had just arrived at Hogwarts, and she might have been tired from the trip.

It made for a quiet, undisturbed lunch, and soon Harry was making his way to Professor McGonagall's office. He groped the front of his clothes, and pressed the necklace closer to his chest. Harry was feeling quite curious by then. What exactly was there to tell about this necklace, anyway?

Harry knocked softly on the door, and a stern, rusted "Come in, Mr. Potter" resounded from the other side. Harry meekly opened the door, and went in.

Professor McGonagall was sitting at her desk, looking rather pensive. Her brows were low, and her mouth was pressed thin. There was a floating quill, moving on its own across a very, very long roll of parchment that went past the desk's edge and onto the carpeted floor.

"You wanted to see me, professor?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Yes, I did, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall nodded solemnly. "Please sit down. This might take a while."

She pulled out her wand, and effortlessly conjured a cushioned red velvet seat. Harry sat, rigidly at first, but he immediately relaxed when he noticed noticed that the seat felt very much like his favourite couch in the common room.

"Comfortable?" Professor McGonagall asked softly.

"Very much so, professor. Thank you." Harry replied. He wondered why Professor McGonagall seemed so... sad.

"Well, then, Mr. Potter. I assume that you are curious about the necklace that I gave you for Christmas. Do you have it with you?"

Harry nodded. He took out the necklace from underneath his robes. It seemed to emit a soft, golden glow.

"Now as I've told you, I had originally given this to your mother. She was a brilliant muggle-born witch. Head Girl, top of her class, the image of a Ravenclaw student. At the time, it was quite a mystery why she was sorted into Gryffindor."

Professor McGonagall paused, likely to give him, Harry, time to take that all in. His mother, Lily Potter, had been a very smart muggle-born witch who was very much a Ravenclaw, but had mysteriously been sorted into Gryffindor...

Harry snorted, and Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow at him.

"Sorry, professor..." Harry muttered. He felt a very strong urge to squirm under her gaze. "My... er, _mother _sounds a bit like Hermione."

"Ah yes, Ms. Granger,"Professor McGonagall said. She didn't smile, but her face did seem to relax a bit. "She owled me just yesterday. Packed and ready to go back to Hogwarts. I had already been planning to come back today, so it really hadn't been too much trouble to side-along her to Hogsmeade."

Harry didn't quite understand what _side-along _and _Hogsmeade _were, but he kept silent.

"I remember doing the same for your mother, once. Quite a likeness indeed, those two. Though Ms. Granger is a bit more foolhardy, your mother never went looking to single-handedly take down a fully-grown mountain troll as a first year!"

Harry cringed. Ron and he had never told anyone, but that troll incident had been entirely their fault. But Hermione had taken the blame, even when she had almost died! Looking back, Ron and he had been so very, very horrible to Hermione! It was a wonder that she wanted to be _their _friend...

Harry made up his mind, right then and there.

"Excuse me, professor?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Er, about that... it really wasn't Hermione's fault..."

"What?"

"The thing with the troll... it was our fault, mine and—" Harry stopped himself just in time. He didn't want to get Ron into trouble with him! Harry imagined what he would say to Ron later that night... _Sorry for being horrible to you these last few days, and oh by the way, I got us both into detention!_

"And?" Professor McGonagall prompted. Harry shook his head.

"No... it was entirely my fault." Harry said determinedly. "That Halloween morning, after Charms, I... I said something very nasty about Hermione. She heard me."

Harry stopped to look at Professor McGonagall, but she didn't say anything. He pressed on.

"She wasn't at the feast when the troll got in. She... she had hidden herself in that bathroom, crying the whole day. But we, Ron Weasley and I, didn't know she was in there. We just saw the troll go into the bathroom, and I locked it in. Then we heard her voice, screaming. We found her pinned to the wall, and knew we had to fight the troll. Ron knocked it out. Hermione took the blame when you and the other teachers arrived."

It didn't seem possible, but Professor McGonagall's lips seemed to have gone thinner than before. Harry gulped.

"That..." Professor McGonagall tensed her jaw. "... is very disappointing, Mr. Potter. Fifty points from Gryffindor."

Harry reeled back, and he sputtered, "F-fifty?!"

"Yes, and a week's worth of detention in my office at the start of term. You had endangered the life of another student, and what's more, allowed her to take the blame unto herself when it was your fault! I thought better of you!"

Harry quite forcefully bit his lip to keep it from dropping open. He had somewhat expected the detention, but not _fifty_ points from Gryffindor! That would cut the quidditch lead he had gotten Gryffindor in half! Harry doubted even the twins ever got docked that much in one go.

"I am also confiscating that necklace."

This time, Harry couldn't help it. He gasped.

"But professor! You—"

Professor McGonagall slammed her hand onto her desk, and Harry wisely shut up.

"Don't tell me that I can't take it away, Mr. Potter!" She snapped angrily at him. "I had given you that necklace because you seemed to be genuinely interested in your lessons. I have often observed that in most of your free periods, you, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley go into the library to study, and all of your Transfiguration essays are properly detailed and explained in creative manners. In my class, you have always maintained a respectful, disciplined persona. I assumed that like your mother, you had developed a good sense of responsibility. Obviously, I was wrong!"

Harry kept his head down. He clenched his teeth, and kept telling himself that it was worth it. That his friendship with Ron was worth it. He waited silently, clutching the necklace through his robes.

Soon enough, Professor McGonagall cooled down.

"Give me the necklace. You may go." She said, in a disturbingly even voice.

Harry wordlessly handed it to her. He stood up and walked out of her office.

* * *

Please Review.


End file.
